deer sees me notice her in the woods

deer sees me notice her

in the woods and takes a step

back, her neck gentle like

a sculptor. some days i wish i had

sculptor's hands and with each stroke

of my thumb could smooth the world

into a better place for her. in town,

a few miles down the road, the sculptor

is kneading clay the way the baker

kneads bread, the way the painter 

kneads canvas with color, the way

i knead words onto paper. 

i watch kids at the beach sculpt sand

into castles, but they aren't castles,

of course, in the same way paints 

aren't a landscape and clouds aren't hearts,

but become so when we see it. 

perhaps that is the most remarkable 

thing about humans- our ability to make,

even just by seeing. deer bolts to her

fawn and i wonder if she knows

we are creating a world just

by being alive.